


You're Your Own Problem

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Again It's Implied, C-137, Cinnamon Roll Morty, Come To The Dark Side Morty, GET RICKETY WRECKED BITCH, Imma Fuck All Yall Up, Implied Relationships, Incest, Morty's Still Fourteen, Multi, No Touchies Though, Poor Doofus Rick, Rating Is For Torture, Rick Ain't Taking No Shit, This Is Gonna Get Rickdiculous, not really though?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Morty gets a familiar eyepatch wearing visitor in the middle of the night, who insistes that he had nothing to do with Evil Rick. Eyepatch Morty tells him that the Citadel of Ricks refused to send him home and he needs his help. Never one to turn the other cheek, Morty offers to help. There's just one problem. He's now trapped in a decaying dimension with himself. Even Rick might not be able to save him this time.In which Morty learns what "Cocky Little Shits" can do.





	You're Your Own Problem

**Author's Note:**

> IM GOING TO HELL, Y'ALL ALREADY KNEW THAT. MY FIRST WORK IN THIS FANDOM PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME TOO HARSHLY! LOVE YA!

Morty crashed face down into his bed that night, groaning dramtically and grimacing at the dull aches of yet-to-be bruises that were going to turn purple and cobalt by morning. Adventuring around the Multiverse with Rick was awesome, but it often left him feeling like shit afterwards. Both physically and emotionally.

Tufts of fluffy chestnut hair fell into his vision as he heaved out a sigh. Whether it be Rick ditching him for some alien tech, playing cruel pranks on him, or straight up calling him an idiot, Morty was normally left with a good dose of both physical and mental injuries.

The old man was probably downstairs getting wasted as he tinkered over whatever contraption caught his fancy at the time. Morty scoffed, turning to glare at the cieling. 

"Who am I kidding? He's always f-fucking wasted. Even w-when I...when I-I-I _ask_ \--" 

His eyes burned and he started at the feeling. Sneering at himself, Morty swatted at the tears. Useless. Tears were useless and pathetic. Or, that's what Rick always said. And Morty was more often than not inclined to listen to him.

After all, he was just a _human shield_ , right? 

"W-Whatever." Morty huffed. He groped blindly for his blanket and drew it harshly over himself as he rolled over to glower at the wall with watery, narrow eyes. "I-It's not like-like I c-c-care what he th-thinks anyway. He's just a-a--"

"Morty! Stop talking to yourself and go to bed! You don't need to jack off every night!"

"SHUT UP SUMMER OR I'LL START MOANING OUT YOUR FRIEND'S NAMES!"

"GROSS!"

 Huffing, Morty squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself into an anxious, grainy slumber.

•••

 

Morty awoke to the familiar sound of a portal opening in his bedroom. He sat up feebly, rubbing his eyes with a groan, "Riiiick, we just-just came back from a-an adventure. I don't w-w-want to go on-on another one."

"You have to hide me!" A voice that most definitely not Rick's hissed.

Morty grunted in surprise as someone flung themselves on top of him in his bed, the sound of a portal closing behind them. Brown eyes squinted in the darkness at the figure on top of him, blinking when he saw none other than himself. It was one of his alternates. And he was wearing an eyepatch.

Morty gasped and abruptly shoved himself away from the Morty, falling out of his bed. He scrambled away as his alternate watched him with narrow eyes. "Y-You!"

"Please," The Morty croaked. "Don't send me back, I can't go back! I have to go home!" The one-eyed copy scrambled off the bed towards him. He held his hands up defensively when Morty began to crawl backwards. "Hey, hey! I-I'm not here to hurt you, I swear! I know what you must think of me, but t-that other Rick, the one that was killing other Ricks, he forced me to help him! I had no choice!"

Morty relaxed a bit, eyeing the other warily. He sat up slowly, taking the Morty's offered hand. "I-I can believe that. B-but...But why're you _here_?"

The Morty shook his head, a terrified look taking his face. "T-The Council, t-they won't let me go home! They-they keep insisting I'm d-dangerous-- they want to have me k-killed!" He grabbed Morty's shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Please, I just want to go home..."

Morty swallowed and tentatively placed a comforting hand over his alternate's. "Okay, l-listen. I want to-to h-help you, so let me g-go get R-Rick--"

"NO!"

Morty blinked up at Eyepatch Morty with wide eyes, "W-why-why not?"

The other Morty looked abruptly sheepish, letting go of him to rub the back of his neck, "S-sorry, it's just...I've learned to be wary of Ricks. If you could just, uh, maybe let me stay the night? And then I-I'll leave in the morning. That is, if I could use your portal gun. I-I managed to steal one from a Rick at the Citadel, b-but I dropped it when I came through."

"Oh, o-of course! And I u-understand the-the not t-tr-trusting Ricks thing. I wouldn't either if I were you." Morty said with an awkward chuckle. He gestured to his bed, "Y-you can sleep here. I c-can grab some blankets from the closet and set up on the fl-floor."

The Morty hesitated, "Thank you, but I don't want to kick you out of your own bed." He simpered, toeing the ground.

Morty waved him off as he reached up in his closet for a duvet, "It's n-no trouble." He yawned. "I don't...don't mind. And if y-you're really a-a-against Rick seeing you here, I won't tell, tell him. I-I'll just being you up some-some toast or somethin' in the morning, a-and then we'll g-get you home. Do you m-mind if I ask your, uh, your dimension?"

His alternate sat on the bed slowly, frowning and pulling off his shoes. "...R-665. It--it's not the best, but," He grimaced. "It's all I've got now."

Morty winced, settling down on his blanket, "M-man. Was..." He bit his lip abruptly, shaking his head. "N-Nevermind. G'night, uh, me."

The other Morty chuckled, "Good night, me."

Soon after he had laid down, he heard the tell-tell deepening of C-137's breathing. Fingers trailed almost vindicatively over his eyepatch, and he gave a confused hum as he glanced at the Morty on the floor. 

' _This one's different_ ,' Morty thought. ' _He knows. He's aware. But..._ ' He grimaced, his eye flashing. ' _I guess they all share that trait. Too damn trusting._ '

That could work in his favor though. Awareness and trust made a Morty indecisive, unstable. And an unstable Morty was a bad Morty. 

At least, for a Rick.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only who thought of Morty singing this song to Rick, right?


End file.
